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They could not speak; and so I left them both,
To bear this tidings to the bloody king.

Enter King Richard.

And here he comes:—All health, my sovereign lord!

K. Rich. Kind Tyrrel! am I happy in thy news?

Tyr. If to have done the thing you gave in charge Beget your happiness, be happy then, For it is done.

K. Rich. But didst thou see them dead?

Tyr. I did, my lord.

K. Rich. And buried, gentle Tyrrel?

Tyr. The chaplain of the tower hath buried them; But where, to say the truth, I do not know.

K. Rich. Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper, When thou shalt tell the process of their death. Mean time, but think how I may do thee good, And be inheritor of thy desire. Farewell, till then.

Tyr. I humbly take my leave. [Exit.

K. Rich. The son of Clarence have I penn'd up


His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage;
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom,
And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night.
Now, for I know the Bretagne Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter.
And, by that knot, looks proudly on the crown,
To her go 1, a jolly thriving wooer.

Enter Catesby.

Cote. My lord,—

K. Rich. Good news or bad, that thou com'st in so

bluntly? Cate. Bad news, my lord: Morton is fled to


And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen, Is in the field, and still his power encreaseth.

K. Rick. Ely with Richmond troubles me more


Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength.
Come,—I have learn'd, that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary:
Then fiery expedition be my wing,
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king!
Go, muster men: My counsel is my shield;
We must be brief, when traitors brave the field.



The Same. Before the Palace.
Enter Queen Margaret.

Q. Mar. So, now prosperity begins to mellow.
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
Here in these confines slily have 1 lurk'd,
To watch the waning of mine enemies.

A dire induction am I witness to,
And will to France; hoping, the consequence
Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.
Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret! who come*

Enter Queen Elizabeth and the Duchess of York.

Q. Eliz. Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender


My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air.
And be not fix'd in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother's lamentation!

Q. Mar. Hover about her; say, that right for right Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.

Duch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute,— Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

Q. Eliz. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle


And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
When didst thou sleep, when such a deed was done?

Q. Mar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet son.

Duch. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-living ghost,

Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life

usurp'd, .

Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,

[Sitting down. Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood!

Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou would'st as soon afford a


As thou canst yield a melancholy seat ..
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here!
Ah, who hath any cause to mourn, but we?

[Sitting down by her.

Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent,
Give mine the benefit of seniory,
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society,

[Sitting down with them.

Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine:—
I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him:
Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.

Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him; I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.

Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard

kill'd him.

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hell-hound, that doth hunt us all to death:
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood;

That foul defacer of God's handy-work;
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves.—
O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur
Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
And makes her pew-fellowM with others' moan!

Duch. O, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes; God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

Q. Mar. Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge, And now I cloy me with beholding it. Thy Edward he is dead, that kilPd my Edward; Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward; Young York he is but boot, because both they Match not the high perfection of my loss. Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward; And the beholders of this tragick play, The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey, Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves. Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer; Only reserv'd their factor, to buy souls, And send them thither: But at hand, at hand, Ensues his piteous and unpitied end: Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray, To have him suddenly convey'd from hence :— Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray, That I may live to say, The dog is dead!

Q. EKz. O, thou didst prophecy, the time would come,

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